The Third Man Factor
by 1-Shooter
Summary: Arisato Minato went missing years ago in a dark winter night of 2009. Detective Akechi Shido was assigned to the cold case on the behest of his father, trailing after the footprints of memories left behind.


**A/N: I'm too lazy to say much, so let's just read along and decide what'll happen. Well... I have some idea... kinda, but I'll listen to the readers.**

* * *

 **THE THIRD MAN FACTOR**

 **CHAPTER I**

 **ACEDIA**

The acidic smell of the vomit that came from the thirty-something dead man had a hint of bitter almond. Choked on his own bile. The colour almost matched the particular sample he learnt from a poison class he took directly after finishing his basic training.

From the corner of his eyes, Akechi noticed a green-faced rookie threw up his breakfast to the window and rolled his eyes. Slowly, he stood up from his crouch beside the body as he removed his plastic gloves, signaling for the forensic team who stood restlessly at the doorway to do their job with a wave of his hand.

With a flurry of movement, the blue-garbed people did the standard crime scene documenting procedure and a middle-aged man who was in charge of the forensic process examined the body, shaking his head and sighed.

"What's your conclusion?"

The man pulled down his mask, scratching his five-days old stubble with vigor and turned bleary bloodshot eyes at Akechi. The forensic man turned the corpse's wrist, showing the bracelet the victim wore. Then, he pointed at an empty syringe lying innocuously at the man's hand.

"Diabetic, probably Insipidus Type." He offered his verdict without raising his eyes from the body. The room was trapped in the heat of late summer, Akechi's coat hung in a coat rack conveniently placed behind the door. His temple was damp with perspiration but he made no move to wipe it off.

The cooling sweat on his nape clung to his skin stubbornly, the slight breeze that came from the opened window not helping to stave off the unforgiving summer.

"He needed another injection, injected himself and got the dose wrong. Poor guy, can't even hold his pee on his death throes. That's one heck of an embarrassing way to die." The man snickered morbidly as the pungent smell of urine rose up with the heatwave.

Deeming his job complete, the Chief Pathologist paid his respect to the dead man and stood up, old bones creaking with each of his movements.

One of the forensic men approached the body with a camera, the sound of the shutter resounded across the silent crime scene. Both of them left the scene, exited the victim's office only to be greeted by the summer sun beating on their backs.

A few teenage girls that stood curiously near the bored perimeter guard recognized the Detective Prince and waved energetically, giggling as Akechi smiled and waved back. The man beside him clicked his tongue in distaste as he ordered his men to haul the body away from innocent bystanders.

The braceleted wrist fell limply from the stretcher.

"Popular as always, eh?" The man slugged one of his arms around Akechi's shoulder. Akechi fought not to shrug the unfamiliar arm away.

"My fans can't hold themselves back when I was new to the force. Rugged charm and all. I can't understand why girls nowadays like the skinny type like you." He leered, "Cut your bangs, you're teetering around the length the office regulation allows!"

Akechi grinned and saluted sharply, "Thank you for your assistance on this case, sir. I'll report back to the station."

The man nodded, apparently flattered by the respect. "You do that, I'll be hanging out on our cafeteria with crap coffee and yesterday's takeout."

They parted ways and Akechi's face shuttered, returning to its blank state as he walked away from the crowd. He ignored the inane chatters that floated around him with an ease borne from practice. People never stopped walking around him, rushing from place to place, sweat perspired from their pores.

So inane. So ordinary. So uninteresting. Normal.

Akechi wondered when the next murder crime would happen.

* * *

A talk show with garish pink background. The female host raved about the new dating spot.

A superhero series. A brunette who apparently knew enough about how to use a bow attacked the monsters.

Asian Games. The runner who won Gold at the men's marathon waved Japan's flag.

Morning news. Yoshida's political scandal went up in flame and the man's house was attacked.

The news again. Ah, about the murder crime he investigated. The victim's balding physician and young wife were shoved into the police car.

The television flickered shut as Akechi turned it off, hazel eyes hidden from the black screen as he slumped on the sofa. His brain has stopped to process the continuous input, wanting to be surrounded by the all-encompassing white noise of his apartment.

Akechi curled up on the sofa, thin limbs tucked beneath his chin as he breathed out. The minute details of the day were washed over from his tense shoulders. He opened his eyes in the dark, faintly registering that he has forgotten to turn on the lights. The apartment was damp as the air conditioner fought to counter the heat from the windows he has forgotten to close.

He blinked.

The silence was pierced by the noise of his father's ringtone. Akechi watched his phone lit up for a full minute before it stopped, and he noted to himself to call the man tomorrow.

When the ringtone went off again, the haze that surrounded him was broken. This time, his fingers clasped around the phone and he wearily dragged himself from the cocoon of empty thoughtlessness.

Blindly, he punched the 'Answer' button and let Masayoshi Shido's voice greeted him good night. Akechi heard his own voice replied back but his brain was struggling to focus on figuring out what the man was saying next.

"-read the case report. You did a good job on figuring that the victim didn't get his dose wrong." The words invigored Akechi slightly.

His father continued, " I was worried for a second that it was a revenge killing because he was my man for a new pet project."

A scoff, "Turned out it's just a domestic melodrama. Boring."

Akechi stood up from the sofa and closed the windows, bringing down the temperature as the air conditioner worked harder.

He blinked.

Akechi couldn't remember when exactly he arrived home, but it was dark outside. His silver case was thrown across the room, the many scratch that littered its body glinted with the moonlight. Maybe he had returned straight from the station after he turned in his report.

"Again, good job on this one, son. About the New Year Gala next week, I already went ahead and get you a few days of leave from your boss. It'll be enough for you to deal with the loose end of my pet project, then."

"Yes, father."

Cradling the phone in one shoulder, Akechi headed to his bedroom and flopped gracelessly on top of his bed covers. He distantly registered the satisfied 'Good Night' from the phone's speaker before the battery gave out and died, engulfing the room in peace.

Eventually, he couldn't force himself to focus on anything although he was far from being tired. It took too much energy to concentrate on anything nowadays, even to convince his own body to let go and doze off. His brain whirred continuously like a black hole that seeped all of his strength.

Akechi's eyes roamed around the stark and utilitarian room, cataloguing the spider webs on one corner of the unpainted ceiling and watched as the spider sunk its fangs on a trapped fly.

Then, as if a switch was flipped, his eyelids fell shut and his breathing evened out. Something he learnt to trick his body to think that it needed some sleep. Akechi was so tired. He didn't know whether waking up tomorrow will be a good thing or not.

* * *

Food was an important factor to nourish a human body, as a fuel for the cells to divide and regenerate. It was one of the Biology subject questions he answered in high school's entrance exam.

He remembered. His memory was just wired that way.

The New Year Gala's dinner catering was extravagant, but food was only necessary to nourish the body. Akechi told his father that it was delicious anyway. The Prime Minister had smiled and picked the exact same thing Akechi ate as he continued to speak with the Minister for Education.

The sushi has a faint smell of garlic, though, so Akechi moved the plate away and flicked his fingers to the general direction of where a guard was stationed. The plate was gone before the Education Minister could talk Masayoshi Shido into tasting one. A reshuffle might be issued tomorrow.

Then, the hand on his shoulder led Akechi away from the food table as they approached a woman in tasteful caramel A-line dress. Akechi carefully averted his eyes when his father's hands ended up on the woman's waist.

Akechi listened to the adults talking, occasionally nodding at the right time or answering politely when asked and laughed quietly as people came up to talk to his father about the brilliant, rediscovered son that the Prime Minister met before the election.

Masayoshi Shido had circled his arm over his shoulder in a fatherly way before telling anyone who listened that he did love his lost son, despite only meeting him a few months ago. And he continued his campaign without hiding Akechi's identity, because he wanted the boy to be acknowledged by the adoring population.

It always ended with consolations from those faceless people about how sorry they were about his extended stay in orphanages and fake delight that he managed to be the second advent of the Detective Prince, accompanied with complements to the Prime Minster about how lucky he was and how generous his heart was for taking him in despite his odious slut of a mother that took advantage of a blameless youth. It was all they talked about.

No one mentioned Ren Amamiya and his silly juvenile gang anymore.

Phantom Thieves were destined to fail because they didn't understand how the cogs and wheels moved. They were immature. The society was not a gentle mother ready to pamper anyone with so much as a sob story. But unlike them, Akechi had stopped waiting for the society to change.

That was why Masayoshi Shido was a great man, in a dystopian way: terrifyingly powerful, ambitious, with a natural ease in making people dance to his tune. A king on a pedestal that Akechi couldn't relate with. It was better like that, though. Kings were always viewed from a distance.

But then again, Akechi couldn't relate with everyone else wither way. His control over that unwanted part of him only worsened over the months. He can see everything. He could see the darkness of everyone that attended the party. Their dirty secrets and desires leaked out over their orifice like pus. Their Shadows were grinning widely when they noticed him, whispering their glee and inviting him to their Palaces.

It was just they way things were.


End file.
